1. Prologue

Why did she have to leave? My heart is aching for the way she smiles and her laugh, oh, her laugh. Music to my ears. I've never taken a liking to school, especially English, but on the first day, I saw her there, sitting in the seat, the seat that was directly in front of mine, and I decided that maybe English wasn't half as bad anymore. She combed through her beautiful brown hair in a way that made it look like a waterfall, clear and smooth. She glanced at me once. I wish I could've held her gaze for the longest time. I made a total fool out of myself. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets, my mouth dropped, and I think that I started to drool. She made a face and quickly turned away. I didn't smile back, due to the fact that I was caught up in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes… and I completely melted.

I tried to talk to her many of times. I think only my best friend knew that I liked her and he kept on pushing me to tell her how I felt. I'm pretty sure that I wrote her a note, once. It came out sort of like this.

I cannot tell you how I really feel, well at least to your face. You are amazing. Beautiful. Intelligent. I really like you. Do you want to go out with me??

I was completely amazed that I even wrote the note that I forgot to write my name at the end. She probably thought that it was some pervert who wanted to screw with her.

I remember one time, probably the worst I have felt ever since I broke my right arm. It was the last dance of sophomore year. I wanted to ask her to the dance, but I chickened out. Pathetic, right? So I was hoping that she'd come on her own or maybe with a friend. All night, I waited and waited. I didn't realize that the dance had ended until my friend tapped me on the shoulder. He asked me if I wanted a ride home, but I said that I'd walk home. After everyone had left, I walked over to the darkest corner and for the first time since I was five, I cried. I think that I could've stayed there forever, but my mother called me, telling me the time, and saying that I was an hour and a half late. As I was walking home, I realized that I was definitely falling head over heels for this girl.

It's been exactly two years since she has moved. You would think that after this time period I would be over her. No. Wrong. Every girl that passes me doesn't exist. I don't think about them. I don't look at them. Everything around me is black, like I'm being sucked down a winding tunnel that will never have an end.

I went through three phases of those two years that were stretched throughout the whole two years. I guess my schoolwork got better, well, at least for a while. I really concentrated and I kept an A average going. My mom was so proud of me. Was. But after a while, they started plummeting, like a plane falling from the sky after its engine is busted. I quit football, track, all of the committees I was in. This is the Twilight Zone.

I first went through numbness. Once she left, on January 19th, I felt numb, like there was no point in living. For ten months I felt this way. People tried to talk to me, but I ignored them. I concentrated only on my sports and my schoolwork. I went to bed early, didn't make any plans, and I cried myself to sleep every night. There was nothing left in the world for me…

October 17th. That's when I came out of this stupor. I realized that I only had at least five friends left. The only person that really was there for me was Mimi. Mimi Marquez has been my best friend ever since Billy Gardner beat me up in the first grade. We made plans for the weekend. I didn't stick to them.

I became depressed. I missed the numbness that kept the pain away. Now the pain was slowly creeping back and it felt as if someone pulled out my heart and stitched my skin back up. Mimi tried to talk to me, saying that I should see a professional. I just hit her until bruises appeared. I didn't know why she just stood there calmly while I beat her up. I still don't know why.

My grades dropped. I started to skip school a lot. I stole money from my mother and from some people in the school, even teachers. I spent that money on cigarettes and beer. Some days I had such a bad hangover that I slept in the nearest trash can. I could be gone for days. I don't know if my mother knew about it. One night she called the police because I'd been missing for a week. They found me on the side of the river knocked out with a wound in my shoulder. Supposedly I picked a fight with a gang; they shot me and then threw me over the bridge. I was in the hospital for about two weeks. Mimi and my mother visited everyday until I was better. When I was strong enough to go to school, my mother wanted me to change my schedule so that Mimi was in every class of mine. My mother saw that it was going smoothly, so she sent me to a therapist. This plan of hers only worked for about a week. By then, the depression kicked in again and I started to smoke. It was officially the “first year anniversary” since she had left. Everybody was talking about it during school and I was sick of it. I just stood up and walked out of my class. Mrs. Bloomward, my English teacher, came running after me, but it’s obvious that I outran her.

I didn’t know what to do after my brilliant escape. My mother was home, so I couldn’t go back there. I decided to go up to my brother, Dan, in San Francisco. I stole one of those rental cars and drove, only stopping for gas. When I got there, my brother was slightly confused, but nonetheless happy to have me with him. The good thing about my brother is that he doesn’t ask questions and isn’t nosey. I told him that I only needed to stay with him for a few days so I could think some things over. He said it was fine, just as long that I don’t need his help with anything. Our mom called three days after I left. She was bursting into tears, saying how she lost Dan and now she is losing me. Dan told me that he has never heard our mother like that, and he thought that I should go back to Phoenix. I ignored his suggestion, and just went to the front porch to have a smoke. Turned out that I stayed at Dan’s house for about two months. Our mother kept on calling, probably three or four times every day. My brother kicked me out, saying that I needed to get a life and go back to mom.

I went back to Phoenix, straight to our house. I knocked on the door, and waited for her to answer it. After five minutes, she opened the door. There were big purple bags underneath her eyes, her hair was greasy and looked like straw, and looked like she just crawled out of a dumpster. Once she saw me, her eyes lightened up a little bit, but there were no body motions. She just stood there, evaluating me. I had to push down on the urge to fidget beneath her piercing gaze. Finally after what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a few moments, she opened her arms.

“Welcome home, Logan.”

I threw myself into her arms and we just stayed there. Wrapped in her arms, I came to a decision. Yes, I missed Bella. Yes, she meant everything to me. But this obsession with her – for that was what it was – was not so slowly killing me and all those around me. It had to end. Or at the very least, I had to do something about it. So, starting that day, I began burying my love for her deep within myself. I figured that I’d never think of her again or feel that love once more. How wrong I was.